The Shifting Nature of Teamwork
by DarkLightShades
Summary: Because there's being close to your partners, and then there's being CLOSE. Relationship drabbles for the 'teams' of the Sonic Universe. Implied threesomes, triangles and other things. Currently: Team Dark, Babylon Rogues
1. Team Dark

**Author's Note:** My justification? Um, I like threesomes, and other types of complicated, messy relationships. These shall be short, relationship drabble collections, sometimes romantic and sometimes other things that you're welcome to interpret as you wish. ;D

First is Team Dark, which ended up vaguely threesome-y, if one can count a relationship with an aesexual robot, but definite Rouge/Shadow. Also, Omega is a vouyer. Non-explicit sexing in the first part; avert your eyes if you must.

* * *

**Team Dark**

GUN had rules about relations between its members, and GUN headquarters was full of stern eyes and watchful cameras to guard against such things…but then most members of GUN were trained to avoid such observations when the need arose, and Rouge was always too impatient for privacy.

"Keep watch, Omega," she ordered, her voice dropping several octaves to a seductive purr as she backed Shadow into the niche in the corridor. She traced the red stripes down Shadow's arms, raking the fur backward in a way that made him shudder from skull to tailbone.

"The cameras-"

"Taken care of," she told him before sealing any further objections with her lips on his. He resisted for a moment before sighing and giving in. Less trouble that way, and he couldn't say he objected much to her body flush against his. Shadow enjoyed the relentless pace of their work, but even he needed a break from fighting once in a while. Rouge wasn't gentle, but she was direct and he appreciated that, as well as the fact that she was warm and solid in his arms and he never had to worry about breaking her.

Her legs hooked comfortably over his hips, and he had no trouble supporting her weight. It might have been easier with her back to the wall instead of his, but she didn't like to be boxed in and he didn't want his blind side exposed even with Omega standing guard. The robot had ostensibly turned away to them to give a modicum of discretion, but its head had been rotated further than any organic could manage, nearly facing backwards. Watching silently. Shadow had never minded; Omega had other sensors to detect anyone approaching and modesty had never been an issue in their partnership.

Shadow even thought Rouge preferred to conduct their trysts when Omega was around. He wasn't sure it was just because of the implied protection should they be suddenly attacked, but that was a logical enough reason for him to never question it.

He often wondered what Omega was thinking during those moments. The body language of a robot was nearly impossible to decipher, and though Shadow had looked straight into Omega's eyes while his hands searched for the hidden zippers of Rouge's bodysuit he hadn't gleaned any insight. Maybe Omega studied them with the same analytical scrutiny he wielded during their missions…but if the acts of organics repulsed or intrigued it, Omega never said, but nor did it object to the duty of keeping them safe throughout.

And always, it watched.

* * *

The hours between midnight and dawn were long. Rather than submit to a sleep that would leave her groggy and thick headed when she needed to be ready, Rouge perched comfortably on Omega's knee and warmed her numb hands in front of the air vent below his chest. The snow drift was tall enough to keep out the wind, but the air was still too cold for her liking, and unlike Shadow and Omega she actually felt it.

It wasn't quite intentional, but by virtue of her position she had an ear pressed to Omega's torso and could hear the grinding clicks of his internal workings chugging steadily away. She found the noise comforting – more so than the eerie creaking of naked trees and the howls of night predators in the distance.

Omega's internal rhythm changed. His optics flashed with muted crimson light. "Shadow returns."

He dropped down into their dug-out a moment later, shaking yet more snow from his quills. "The base's security is weakest at the north point. In another hour their attention will be at its least effective. That's when we should sneak in."

"Sounds like a plan," she told him, attempting not to sound drowsy. She was a professional, after all. A little lost sleep shouldn't affect her senses too badly. She was sure that at any moment Shadow would be reminding her not to let her guard down, or Omega would remind her of the importance of the mission, but neither of them did.

Shadow looked about warily, as though worried they might be observed, before joining Rouge by sitting cautiously on Omega's other leg. The robot's head swivelled, but the rest of his body remained stationary to accommodate them both. Shadow's hands joined hers in front of the vent.

Rouge raised an eyebrow. "Cold?"

The Ultimate Lifeform had never admitted weakness to the petty whims of the elements, much to Rouge's fond annoyance, but at the moment Shadow looked it. His gloves were wet, and where he usually radiated a heat to match his rage in battle, she couldn't feel it now.

"We'll have rain soon," he said, refusing to comment on her question. "That will impair their visibility even more."

Rain wasn't very pleasant to work in though. Rouge sighed deeply. Shadow refused to look sympathetic, and complaining to Omega would be of no use. He was water resistant except in cases of total submergence, though he did seem to understand that rain was a potential impairment more than he ever understood what it meant to be cold.

Though it might have been her imagination, it seemed the air he was venting warmed by a few degrees after that. It helped to make the wait more bearable.

* * *

Precisely every 84 days, Omega needed to undergo his regular maintenance to remain in optimum working condition. Some of this he could attend to himself – taking apart his weaponry and scouring every inch of them for rust or defects, regreasing all his joints, reloading his ammunition stores – but there were some tasks not so easily managed on his own.

It wasn't impossible. For the first year of his existence there was no one with the security clearance to be permitted access to his systems besides Doctor Eggman, and Omega had been forced to managed the repairs himself, but since then he'd been able to rewrite those protocols and had added two more names to that list.

Shadow poked thoughtfully at his power generator. "The crystals aren't glowing as brightly as they used to. We'll need to replace them soon."

"Energy levels below eighty percent," Omega agreed. "Suggest replacements may be found in Eggman's storage facility on Indigo Island."

"Then we'll pay the Doctor a visit," Shadow said, and though Omega could not physically see the hedgehog's face as it was currently inside his chest cavity, he detected a smirk that promised the impending destruction of yet another of Eggman's bases. Omega concluded that a mission to the Indigo Islands should be moved higher on his internal priority list.

"Jet booster fuel lines also compromised," Omega added, making sure to keep his voice synthesiser low. At the moment, Shadow's ears were only a few inches from it, and startling the person whose hands were currently wrapped around his power cables seemed like an unwise course of action even if there was only a 0.04 percent chance that Shadow would accidentally damage him. The hedgehog was too careful, which was why Omega had chosen him to perform the repair over GUN's primary technical engineer. Admittedly, Shadow's mechanical experience was limited to the weapons and vehicles he occasionally borrowed from GUN's stores, but Omega had patiently instructed him on what he would need to know.

He didn't doubt that there were other people in the world who could fix him should he be somehow incapacitated and have his own internal repair system fail, nor did he doubt that Shadow and Rouge would hunt said person down and if necessary hold a gun to their head until such repairs were performed…Omega would just prefer not to be put at the mercy of a stranger, especially not one under duress, and more so if his estimations were correct and said person was Doctor Eggman. The decision was a collaboration of input from his common sense protocols, his survival priorities, and the inherent dislike of his creator that had imbedded itself in his personality matrix.

He trusted Shadow far more, and even Rouge when she was inclined to get her hands dirty enough for the work. Letting either of them touch his sensitive internal systems never prompted the usual alert response from his sensors. He suspected that at some point he'd overwritten those codes as well, although it had never been a conscious decision. If he was a robot more prone to speculation he might have analysed that response more thoroughly.

* * *

I LOVE feedback! Also, I can be encouraged to write the other teams faster if you have a favourite and ask me nicely. I intend to do Teams Sonic, Rose, Chaotix, The Babylon Rogues, and maybe others if something catches my fancy.


	2. Babylon Rogues

**Author's Note:** I was bribed by a friend into doing this one next. ;D The Babylon Rogues need more love anyway. Sort of StormxWave, Storm+Jet, JetxWave with overtones of whatever you'd like to read into it.

* * *

**Babylon Rogues**

Wave had taken great pride in her morning's work; delicately crafting the sign and welding it to the door of her engineering bay so it now read in large, bold print on the door: _NO PLEBEIANS. _

In retrospect, she should have made sure that Storm knew what a plebeian was, because it had absolutely zero effect in deterring him from her private sanctuary. She hit her head once again on the underside of the airship's spare engine when he called her name unexpectedly. Growling and nursing her new bruise, she rolled out from under the heavy piece of machinery and scowled at him. "Can't you read?"

He didn't seem to hear her, or maybe he was pointedly ignoring the question. It was hard to tell. Some days she was sure that Storm was actually a little smarter than he led anyone to believe. "Hey Wave, what'cha doing?"

Surrounded by loose cogs, wires and bolts, wearing her most grease-stained pair of coveralls that could always afford to get dirtier, and with her long tails tied out of the way as she always did when she was working made the explanation extremely self-evident.

"Cooking," she said with flat sarcasm.

Storm scratched his head. "I don't smell any food."

She sighed disgustedly, wondering how he could inflict a headache on her with two lines of conversation. Perhaps this time, despite her genius, there was a chance that she was completely off base about her suspicious on his intelligence.

"What do you want?" she asked long-suffering. If it wasn't another mission she was going to kick him out.

"Jet's racing the ship again."

She frowned. "So?"

It was something their fearless leader liked to do whenever he felt like he was getting out of shape. The Babylon Airship wasn't quite a match for the Extreme Gear in terms of pure speed, but it was fast enough to outrun most pursuers and the great back drafts it made added some extra difficulty to try and fly alongside it. Jet could navigate those currents better than anyone which was how he'd earned his title of Legendary Wind Master, so it was hardly a dangerous past time.

Storm gave her a look. "So he's gonna be busy for a while."

Wave thought about that. "Ah."

"Last time you tole me you were going to show me that new lab you were setting up near the foredeck," he reminded her, his expression faintly sly. "Remember?"

"I remember," she said, making a face at him that didn't quite achieve the look of annoyance she'd been going for. "Just let me clean up a bit."

At least Storm knew when to take advantage of the opportunities that came his way. Maybe he wasn't a total lost cause.

* * *

Jet was the leader of the Babylon Rogues, and had always been a pretty good one as far as Storm was concerned, but on the few occasions where things didn't go quite to plan he thought that Jet could learn to pay a bit more respect to the valued advice of their ancestors. Overconfidence could be the downfall of even a talented thief, and though Jet seemed very convinced that they could still make it to their prize even after having tripped the alarms, it was Storm's duty that Jet was kept safe at all costs.

It was also helpful that both Jet and his Gear were relatively light. Storm could carry them both easily despite the former putting up a violent struggle.

"Put me down!" Jet yelped, pounding his fists uselessly against Storm's back. "That's an order, Storm!"

"Sorry Jet," he replied, not meaning it in the slightest. "But Wave told me not to let you get into too much trouble."

Being arrested wouldn't be a very pleasant experience even though Wave and her mechanical toys could probably break them out easy enough. It was a personal mark of honour that not one Babylon Rogue had been caught in the last four generations, and Storm wasn't about to let that record be broken. Besides, Wave would never let him live it down.

"We can take them!" Jet protested, trying to squirm out of Storm's grip, but the Albatross had been Jet's protector since they'd been children and knew all of his tricks. He gave Jet a reproving squeeze that threatened to bruise ribs, and Jet subsided with an undignified squeak.

But only temporarily. Storm could feel Jet trying to shift into a position to better see their pursuers, and the hawk growled in frustration. "Look how slow they are! Our ancestors would be ashamed if they knew we were running from the likes of them."

If he thought that the disproval of their Ancestors would be enough to convince Storm to turn around, he was going to be disappointed. "A talented rogue knows when a battle is better won by retreating," he repeated serenely.

Jet scoffed. "Oh yeah? Did the old lady tell you that one too?"

Jet's venerable grandmother had been inordinately fond of Storm, and had related to him all the old stories and titbits of wisdom passed down through each generation of rogues. Jet had never spared the time for her tales, always impatient to be out doing rather than _listening_, but Storm smiled in fond remembrance. In this case, however, the advice hadn't been hers. "It was your father."

Jet squirmed, now for entirely different reasons, but at least now he was no longer trying to escape. "You're still gonna get it when we get back. And be careful with my gear!"

Storm was grinning, though Jet couldn't see it. "Yes Boss."

* * *

What good was being the leader if he didn't get to decide when and where and how they did things around here? He wondered exactly how long it was going to take before he wielded the same respect his father had. Wave and Storm had never ignored an order from _him. _

"Come back later!" he yelled defiantly, but Wave continued to pound against the door and the resounding banging was worse than any alarm clock Jet had ever owned.

He buried his head under a layer of pillows, muffling the noise and determined to wait it out. Surely Wave had better things to do than kick him out of bed, and sooner or later she'd give up in a huff and get back to her work. He was smugly sure that he would outlast her, and when the noise tapered off he chuckled victoriously, ready to settle back into sleep when one of his tail feathers was yanked.

He squawked, jerking upright and glaring daggers at Wave. She had a screwdriver clenched in her fist, and he should have realised she would rip open the security panel on his door and bypass his lock.

"Go away," he grumped petulantly. "I'm sleeping."

"It's _noon_," she told him pointedly, savagely yanking open the blinds on his window and letting in unwanted sunlight. Groaning pitifully, he put the pillow back over his head, but that didn't stop him from feeling her exasperated glare. "We have a mission today, remember? You wanted go steal that statue back in Westopolis. We've done the ground work for it already."

"Later," he said, voice muffled. He waved a hand at her imperiously. "Maybe tomorrow."

"No, _now_," she argued, and grabbed for his pillow. A brief struggle ensued, which she won by virtue of both being standing and trying harder. "There's no reason not to do it today."

He rolled over, leering at her. "I'm sure there's more interesting things we could do."

She beat him with the pillow, though not as hard as she could have. "Not unless you've got enough money to by me that new calibrator I need."

Keeping her happy was such a bother. He sighed expressively, making sure she understood what a trial it was for him to get out of bed. "Alright already."

"We need to get the work done first," she told him stoutly. A slight smile touched her beak. "Then we can relax."

He liked the sound of that much better, especially the way she said it which could be implying anything at all.


End file.
